To that bitchy lady in Home Depot…

About a year ago, I quit being affected by those disapproving looks at the grocery store… until, yesterday.

Yesterday, we were in Home Depot picking up some paint samples.  First of all, picking out paint colors stresses me out.  How many freaking shades of yellow can there be?  Bring along two cranky kids with you, and you’re asking for it, right?

It started out when I let Sophia down from the shopping cart while I was speaking with a group of men about picking out blinds.  After losing Sophia around the corner, I let her know the consequences of what would happen if that happened again.  The men who were consulting with me all either nodded or said, “I totally understand.  My kids do the same thing.”  

Moments later she disappeared around the corner again, testing me.  I grabbed her and put her in the cart–consequences for leaving my line of sight.  The screaming and falling apart began.  I finished my business in the blinds department, and we quickly moved on to pick up the paint and get out of the store.

I was un-phased by Sophia.  She acted bad; she got consequences.  This is my every day.  But, the horrible glances I got!  The woman getting our paint gave each of the kids a sticker.  It was nice, but it did nothing for Sophia’s meltdown.  She begged me to get out and “try again.”  (That’s her new thing.)  After I said, “No.  You ran away from me in the store.  Your consequence is that you will stay in the cart until we leave, ” she continued her yelling fit.  Just as we approached the cashier, an older woman with the most disdainful look of disapproval I have EVER seen scowled directly at me.  It cut me.  I wasn’t angry at her.  I didn’t yell, “Whachoo lookin’ at, B#%$^?” like I wanted to, I just stared back at her with wonder, watched her pass by, and then laughed out loud.  Her look was deeply passionate and so angry.

I am a GOOD mother!  My daughter ran away from me in the store.  I will not tolerate the possibility of her getting lost or kidnapped or otherwise hurt in a home improvement store.  So, I am giving her the consequences!  Yah, she’s screaming.  She’s 3.  She doesn’t like consequences any better than you do.  But, I am a GOOD mother!  I am doing what is best for her.  Control my daughter?  Is that what your disapproving look says to me?  Well, Scowl-face, thank you.  I’m doing just that.  I am teaching her how to behave.  I am sorry that it intruded on your day.  

Why is it that a kid’s tantrum can cause passerbys to go so bitchy on a stranger?  I haven’t been able to get her ugly mugg out of my mind.  Why is that?  Do I feel sorry for her?  Maybe, I wonder what’s going on with her that she would intentionally throw such a look at me.  Or, maybe it’s the fact that I say it doesn’t bother me, but it clearly does.

Well, then there was today.  Sunflower Market was our fourth stop this morning.  We picked up some groceries on double savings Wednesdays.  Crowded market, but worth the extra savings.  Sophia was upset with me for not letting her ride in the cart since Abby was in the baby seat, so I let her ride in the large part of the cart.  She was pretty tired from being dragged around 3 other stores…  About 5 minutes into her joyride amongst my groceries, I saw that she had pulled the top off of our gallon of milk and was holding it!  As I saw the milk about to slosh out, I snapped at her, “You can’t do that!”  I ripped the milk and cap from her hands and yanked her up out of the cart and onto the ground.  Sophia, of course, went into meltdown, i.e. Screamfest 2011.  This woman walking by only feet from me gave me the warmest knowing look–a kind smile and eyes that said, “I understand how the same kids you love so dearly can also infuriate you.”  I wanted to hug this woman!  How is it that two women can act so entirely different to similar situations?  I could blame it on the scowling woman’s age:  She looked to be in her 60s, where the woman in Sunflower looked to be in her early 30s.  I could blame it on the days they were personally having, their upbringing, their own parenting expectations (or lack of them).  But this is nothing new.  You know if you’re a mom of young children, you get these looks all. the. time.  Why is it that other people’s kids’ behavior create such a reaction in onlookers?

Unfortunately, I can’t deny that I am completely un-phased by a passerby’s scowl or smile.  After all, we live in a community.  And, we all must want each other to succeed… right?

To those women looking onto young mothers trying to parent in public:  Stop thinking about yourself and how much the crying bothers you.  Think about that mother.  Think about how much she wants to raise a respectable member of society.  Think about how she disciplines because she loves.  Avert your eyes if you must.  But, if you can muster up enough unselfishness, give her a look of compassion. Don’t you want someone to smile at you when your trying your hardest to be the best you can be?

Cowboy is back. Through gritted teeth, I rejoice.

I’m sitting outside.  7 p.m. Glorious weather.  It’s like 75 out here.  My kids asked to go to bed at 6 p.m.  No freaking kidding you.  When Abby finished dinner right at 6 she said, “Ready go bed.”  Then, she proceeded to lay her head down on her tray, close her eyes and say, “Night, night.”  Woah.  Sophia followed suit, though I’m pretty sure she’s in bed looking at books… Oh well.  I’m outside.  😉

I thought it’d be a good time to tell you a little story.  The story of the treasured animal who was lost… and then she was found.  Cowboy.  In case you hadn’t heard by being around us… or Facebook… Twitter… or the blog, Cowboy was lost.  A sad period of grief followed as we all dealt with the loss in different ways.  Sophia was immediately wonderful about it, but I think reality set in later when she “needed” her.  At seemingly random times she would just cry out for her.  A few times when she got in particularly bad trouble or felt particularly ashamed, she would call out for her in this grief-stricken voice.  Read–60 year-old Russian woman throwing her body of her dead husband’s coffin kind of grief.  This happened just days ago.  She would come and ask me if she could look at pictures of her and Cowboy.  She was pretty big about it all around, but it was hard on all of us.

Well, I got a call 3 weeks and 1 day after we lost her–Sunday night.  The Container Store at FlatIrons mall in Broomfield called with the news.  Apparently she was hidden in a container. Woah.  Step back.  This was out of nowhere.  My immediate impulse is, “Let’s take a roadtrip first thing in the morning.”

Now, if I had had this call 2 weeks ago, I know that I wouldn’t have jumped to that thought first thing.  My heart softened over the weeks as I really saw the grief and loss set in.  I also saw that Sophia can survive without her and that she has learned that toys, even our most beloved toys, can get lost.  2 weeks ago I would’ve said, “I think that this is for the best.  Cowboy is a crutch that makes her act like a baby.”  Sunday night, when I got the call, that thought didn’t even occur to me.

Well, Cowboy has been retrieved.  And, now I have mixed feelings.  Monday, all I wanted to do was celebrate.  But, as soon as we got Cowboy back, Sophia regressed.  She sucked her thumb and cuddled all day.  I had to coax her to do ANYTHING else.

Let me tell you the story of how Cowboy re-entered our lives:

We jumped into the car early Monday morning after breakfast and an assured surprise to come.  After an hour of driving and Sophia asking if we could turn around to get Piglet (who she left at home), we arrived at the mall.  I asked Sophia if she had any idea what her surprise might be.  She asked if it might be a “new Piglet.”  Curious.

We walked into The Container Store, and I whispered to the front desk about our situation: We lost a stuffed animal a few weeks ago, and I’d like to surprise my 3-year old upon the return.  This woman was ecstatic.  She was working when the animal was lost, and she told me about how the two who had closed that night had really scoured the place. They were all sad for us.  “We are all moms.  We understand.”

She left to go get the stuffed animal, and we waited.  We waited and we waited.  I interviewed Sophia.  She still didn’t understand that we were in the place where we left Cowboy… A few other sales people passed smiling really, really big.  Everyone was so excited.  About 5 minutes later, the saleswoman arrived with a wrapped package with a huge pink bow.  The saleswoman helped Sophia open it, and of course, Sophia was thrilled.  Eventually, the saleswoman teared up.  Sweet story.  I think I better go back to The Container Store and actually buy something!  They were wonderful.  (Video at the end if you really need to see it…)

We left straight away to go to the indoor playground.  Sophia sucked her thumb and held Cowboy the whole way.  When we got there, we removed shoes and got ready to play.  I turned around for just a minute and I lost Sophia.  I then found her in lying down in a tunnel cuddling with Cowboy and sucking her thumb.

Now, I should have understood: Sophia needs some time with Cowboy.  Time to reconnect.  Time for her to get over the surprise and enjoy her friend.  But, because of my fallenness, I wasn’t immediately gracious.  I was judgmental, a little miffed.  All I could see was my 3-year old turned baby.  I tried to just let it go.  I tried to coax her out of the tunnel to play with the other kids.  All the while I felt a pang of fear and anger rising in my chest.  What have I done?!  

Here is where I wish I could see like the Father sees:  Gracious.  Loving.  All knowing.  Instead, I fear.

She’s crawled up on a dinosaur and she’s sitting at the top sucking her thumb, holding Cowboy.  I go to her and I say as graciously as I can, “I will hold Cowboy for you.  I will keep her safe.  You will have her the rest of the day.  Let me have her now so that you can play.  You only have the playground now.  Soon, we’ll have to go.”

She would play about 5 minutes, and then come to check on Cowboy.

Again, my fallenness failed to realize how normal this would be.  Instead, I was just annoyed.  I tried to let it go and finish my intended celebrations for the day–lunch and ice cream.  We had a fun time, and I did my very best to celebrate Cowboy’s homecoming.  I did my very best to ignore the thumbsucking, the dazing, and the complete aloofness… for the rest of the day.

This story is starting to look more and more like the story of the Prodigal Son in which I’m the older brother…

And, then there was today.  It continued.  Her thumb sucking and her moping made me so angry!

And, then there was her behavior!  I found myself ready to threaten Sophia with, “Cowboy is going to have to stay in your room if you’re going to act like a baby.”  Her behavior today also regressed.  Lots and lots of crying.  😦  So, what in the freaking heck do I do now?

I don’t doubt my decision in reuniting my daughter with her most beloved lovey.  I don’t.  I just wish it didn’t have to be this way.  There will probably be limits that will eventually have to be set for Cowboy–Cowboy doesn’t leave the house unless we’re going on a big trip, etc.  And, eventually, it may be (if thumb sucking and dazing off don’t get under control) that we have to confine Cowboy to nap/bed times…  And, that’ll be okay.  In the meantime, I can be aware of my heart.  I may not know what to do with it.  But, I do know that if I was reunited with my long lost best friend, I would sure want my mother to rejoice with me.


For those of you hard-core fans (and especially those of you that asked), the following is a video of the event, i.e. the retrieval of Cowboy.  Warning.  It’s not for those with time restraints.  It’s long and slightly anti-climactic.  Though, if you absolutely love Sophia, then you know how important this was to her.  Hope you enjoy it if you watch it.

I want to dedicate this video to the kind-hearted people at The Container Store.  Wow.  What a great bunch of folks.

Lemme brag on my children.

For those of you that only come to my blog for my children…  You know who you are.  😉

My girls have had a complete turn-around in behavior lately.  Sophia has turned into this wonderfully sweet little girl.  She’s acting like a baby so much less.  She’s throwing fits less.  She’s back-talking less.  She’s playing by herself and with her sister very well.  I’ve seen her talk to Abby, consider her needs, and try to help.  I’ve been brought messages like “Abby told me she pooped.”  I’ve seen her get her feelings hurt because of Abby’s attitude.  I’ve seen her feel love when Abby says “sorry” to her.  I’ve seen her choose to do the right thing (share, apologize, hug, etc.) all by herself.  I’ve seen her offer to help me and actually help me.  I’ve seen how much it means to her for me to let her help me. I’ve seen her persevere in learning to read and ride a tricycle.  I’ve seen her broken heart when a friend chose to play with others instead of her.  I’ve seen her memorize bible verses and sing new songs that I didn’t teach her.  I’ve seen her love her daddy more than anyone in the whole world.

Now Abby.  She is now a toddler!  If she wasn’t already…. She’s just started playing by herself and is finally “into” something.  She’s super into babies and wants to do everything with babies.  She now must take one (firmly gripped with a bottle in hand) EVERYWHERE we go.  Feed the baby, change the baby, put the baby in night-night.  All by herself, without direction from me.  I have heard this child use new words every day and communicate full ideas using up to 4 word sentences.  I’ve seen she and her older sister play by themselves for an hour actually talking to each other like best friends.  Here’s a story for you.  I told Abby if she hit sister one more time, she would go to time-out.  She walked away and sulked.  Then, she came back less than a minute later, looked right at Sophia and said, “Sorry,” clear as day.  Unbelievable.  Unbelievable what she’s learned just from watching.  I never would have dreamed of asking her to say “sorry.”  I would’ve thought she was too young for it.  What a nice surprise.  She’s since said “sorry” a handful of times.

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The excitement that fills my heart to move on to this new bigger girls’ stage!  OH!  I can’t explain what it’s like to witness these girls growing up.  The girls that they are becoming warms my heart like no other feeling in the world.  I guess, you know, if you’re a parent, too.

Learning about myself.

I have been learning some valuable things about myself–some of them seemingly trivial but all of them important to me.  As I’m on this journey to figure out who I am, I’m figuring out who I’m not.

  • I’m not schedule-oriented.  It doesn’t make me feel less stress to have my day scheduled…. I tried something with Sophia, a very cute picture schedule for our day.  I hoped it would help her feel less anxiety, but I didn’t respond to it very well.  I like more flexibility than that, and most of the time I have NO IDEA what we’re going to do from hour to hour.  I may still use it sometimes, but for the most part it makes me feel trapped.

  • I also realized that I’m not the free-spirit “messy house” gal either that I used to think I was.  A messy house doesn’t help me feel more creative or energetic or “free.”  Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve gotten my house deep cleaned and straightened up.  NOW I feel free.  I found “homes” for all the toys, and we know just where to put them away.  It’s so easy to get things straightened back up, and the girls are playing a lot more.  I’ve actually seen the empty floor (or kitchen table) become a new place for creativity–getting out different toys that they haven’t played with in a while and playing with them in new ways.  Having the kitchen table cleaned off regularly means that we can spread out any number of crafts or projects whenever… and, easily put them away.  I’ve also seen the girls jump to help keep things straightened.  Sophia often comments on it, “Wow, Mom it’s cleaned up.  This is great!”   What was happening was not that I was living amongst filth, but I was living in just enough stifling mess that I felt trapped to do anything about it.  Increased clutter contributed to my lack of energy or motivation, and I think the kids were trapped, too.  There was a “I-don’t-know-where-to-begin-so-I’m-just-gonna-sit-down” problem.  I learned something similar about myself about 2 1/2 years ago when I made a New Years’ resolution to clean my kitchen every night before I went to bed.  It isn’t an understatement to say that it changed my life….  How can I start the day fresh and free when my sink is full and my counter is crusty?
  • I’m not a mother of 4… or 5…  I realized over the last month (through much ‘baby fever’) that, though I may long to have a family of 6, the mother in that picture is not me.  I am flourishing with these two sweet little girls, but I believe that a few more might do me in.  I love how much attention and love that I’m able to give each of them right now.  I think it’s right.  It’s an important decision to make (an important thing to know about myself) before I spend the rest of my childbearing years longing for a large family.
  • That I can be a morning person.  If I put my coffee in a travel mug while I cook breakfast, I can still enjoy it for the next hour.  It isn’t necessary for me to spend an hour waking up with coffee…though, I will continue that ritual from time to time as I do like it.
  • I can say “no” to my kids and I don’t have to feel guilty–i.e. “no” to junk food between meals, “no” to “carry me.”  I can ignore tantrums (completely ignore tantrums!) and they go away.  I can parent WITHOUT screaming, and I can spank without being angry or feeling guilty.  I can simply give consequences and move on.  (Wonderful book!  Probably should devote a whole post to it, but please read this book.  Even if you don’t “scream,” it’s about reactive parenting and taking care of yourself first.  Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.)
  • I can eat healthy foods and find time to cook them, I can exercise and find time for it.  And, I can feel better because of it. I can feel good in my own skin.
  • I can stop reading a book 30 pages into it and say “not worth my time” without feeling guilty.
  • I can reflect on my insecurities and be pointed to the Father.  My insecurities are almost always rooted in poor theology–what I believe to be true about God and His Kingdom.  And, if I can reflect on what I know to be true about Him, then I can begin again in a much better place.

Knowing these things about myself is empowering.  Knowing who I’m not really takes the pressure off of me to try to be someone I’m not.